


But The Stars Fall Away

by ThatGirlTheyKnow



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Last two chapters edited 3/04/16, M/M, Murder Family, Past Lives, Pre - Murder Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:24:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGirlTheyKnow/pseuds/ThatGirlTheyKnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Will recognises him – of course he does – even though he wears a different face and goes by a different name. He knows he is recognised in return, but they play the part of strangers meeting for the first time – a teacher who can walk in killer’s minds and a psychiatrist - and nobody can guess that they’re old, old friends.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> The angels in here are loosely (LOOSELY) based off the angels in Supernatural, because I don't have the time to do enough actual research to make it accurate.
> 
> The names Karael and Briathos are names I have found on the internet. They are both, apparently, names referring to angels who thwart demons.
> 
> Lines have been taken both directly from the show and altered. I do not own the characters or the lines I have used.
> 
> This fanfiction has not been beta read. All mistakes are mine, and I would very much appreciate that if you see one, you could point it out.

Will recognises him – of course he does – even though he wears a different face and goes by a different name. He knows he is recognised in return, but they play the part of strangers meeting for the first time – a teacher who can walk in killer’s minds and a psychiatrist - and nobody can guess that they’re old, old friends.

He is not surprised when he – Hannibal – shows up at his house. Will lets him in with a simple, “You fell,” because he is in no mood for niceties. “You became a _demon_. You _hated_ demons.”

Hannibal gives him an amused look. “You fell, too,” he points out. “And I’m surprised you did not join Hell also. It is a freedom like no other. Down there, it is simply chaos.” The words come out of his mouth fondly, as though he was taking about a favourite park or a room in his house with a spectacular view.

Will glares at him. “I didn’t _choose_ this, _Doctor Lecter_. I didn’t _want_ to fall.”

The demon looks unconvinced. “You were halfway to the ground when we parted ways, _Will_.” His lip curls in distaste. “What a mundane name. Why did you choose it? Your real name is much more beautiful.”

“That’s what you think,” Will says. “But really, there has to be another reason you became a demon. You always spoke of them like they were _dirt_.”

“They are,” Hannibal says stiffly. “But those are the originals – the twisted and burnt human souls. I kept much of my angelic power when I joined hell. I am a far from ordinary demon.”

“You were a far from ordinary angel,” Will points out.

Hannibal inclines his head with a smile. “That I was.”

-

_Many, many years ago, Will and Hannibal met on a plane of existence that looked similar to the one they occupy now, but was so much more. It had trees, and water, and life, but the feeling was different – the trees were made out of memories, the water from dreams and the only souls who could walk it were dead or divine._

_They were divine – beacons of holy power and righteousness, warriors and carers, with many faces and many forms. They met relatively late in their lives – only five or so hundred years from their second meeting – and were in the form that many angels of the time had preferred: humanoid bodies and wings that flowed between corporeal and not._

_There was a battle on Earth between demons and angels, and when troops were rallied to help their brethren (not that they were particularly needed – angels could kill demons with hardly a touch, though it drained them and many preferred to use weapons) Will – then Karael - found himself stretching his wings – deep, earthy brown speckled with bronze – next to an angel with glossy wings that looked like they could not decided whether they were black or deep blood red._

_The angel met his eye and gave him a sidelong smile._

_“Ready to fight?”_

_Karael blinked at him, then nodded. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”_

_“Good,” the angel said, and nothing more._

_The battle was unremarkable in many ways – Karael had fought the scum of Hell thousands of times. The other angels went back to Heaven when they felt their work was done – only a handful stayed, to pick off any demons somehow left alive._

_Karael was preparing to fly away from the blood and carnage when he saw the angel he had spoken to early, still fighting._

_And if he had breath, it would have been taken away._

_Most angels fought like machines, with a just glint of determination in their eyes and quick, precise movements that they planned carefully ahead._

_This angel with wings like blood fought like a predator. Karael became entranced by his powerful, elegant movements, the look of passion and rage on his face, how he seemed to be fuelled by instinct. His wings glinted ruby red in the sunlight and when he had slain the last demon, he stood, dishevelled and bloody, breathing slowly to help him regain his bearings. He hadn’t used his power to kill a demon, not even once._

_Then, he approached Karael, stalked forward (and the other angel had been reminded of a predator) and smiled._

_“I am Briathos.”_

_Will became aware that he was staring. “I am Karael.”_

_And Briathos smiled again, and though they were equals, Karael felt small, like a mouse whose actions amused a cat._

_“Tell me, Karael...” The name was practically purred. “Would you like me to show you how to_ really _fight?”_

-

Will looks at the breakfast presented to him in disgust.

“I might just eat the egg,” he mutters.

“It’s rude to pick at food, Will,” Hannibal tells him. “Especially when somebody has made it for you.”

Will scoffs. “It’s rude to kill people and eat them.” He shakes his head. “ _Demons_.”

Hannibal looks unperturbed at his disgust. “Many demons eat human flesh raw.”

“Oh,” Will says. “Of course. Thank you, doctor, for that reassurance. It makes everything so much better.”

Hannibal looks at him, thoughtful. “You do not want me on this case,” he says.

“No,” Will says. “I really don’t. I’d been hoping never to see you again.”

Hannibal tsks. “Do not lie, _Karael_.”

Will stiffens, and sits back. “ _Don’t_ use that name.” His voice comes out in a low, strangled sort of hiss. Invisible, he feels his wings flutter. There is power in names, and the sound of his real name makes him physically ache with the loss of his divinity. He still has powers – they’re a part of him, angel or not – but they’re muted, dull, and harder to use.

The name makes him think back to when he was Karael, when he and Briathos had fought together, become powerful and strong, until  demon knew their names.

For less than a second, he misses it.

Hannibal smiles, like he knows exactly what Will was thinking.

-

Will has never killed a human before.

In fact, despite his job, he’s avoided being around dying human beings at all. They see too much, when the lines between Heaven, Hell and Earth blur together, and even as they die, he doesn’t want them seeing his wings. He doesn’t want them to die thinking angels are like him. After all, he’s not a real angel anymore. He’s a mockery of one.

As he presses his hands against Abigail Hobbs’ neck, he wonders if she’s going to die or not. He wonders if she can see his wings curled around her protectively. He wonders what Hannibal’s look like, now. Now that they’ve been burnt by Hell fire.

Will closes his eyes and concentrates, and searches for a strand on angelic power. He grabs it, and it flows through his hands. Abigail Hobbs won’t die today. Through his eyelids, he can see the light of her soul flicker, then keep up a steady but faint glow.

The brush of invisible wings against his own makes Will open his eyes again. Hannibal has kneeled beside him, and, wordlessly, he moves Will’s hands to replace them with his own.

“Can you still heal?” Will asks, looking down at his bloody hands through his red-speckled glasses. He’s shaking, he realises. He feels numb.

“I can,” Hannibal says. “Becoming a demon is a process that adds to your power, instead of replacing it.”

Will doesn’t reply. He just looks at Abigail Hobbs, and then to her father. Then, he closes his eyes again, and waits for the wail of sirens.

-

“What’s that?” Will eyes the piece of paper Hannibal holds suspiciously. He feels safer from the loft than level with Hannibal, like he has the upper hand. It’s an illusion, but he can’t bring himself to climb down.

“Your psychological evaluation. You are completely functional and more or less sane.” Hannibal smiles. “Well done.”

Will laughs. “Are you even a qualified therapist?”

“I’m hurt, Will,” Hannibal says. “You should know from our time together that I never do things by half. I trained fully as both a doctor and psychiatrist.”

Will makes a small scoffing sound and turns back to the books. Hannibal continues speaking.

“I was not surprised to find you in such a state when we met,” the demon says. “Falling is immensely traumatic and all ex-angels I have encountered in my years have showed similar signs of instability.”

Will stiffens. “You’ve met others?”

“Yes.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Anyone I know?”

Hannibal is silent for several long moments. Will knows he is choosing his words carefully. “Lahabiel.”

Will lets out a shocked breath that is almost a laugh. “Lahabiel fell? Do you know why?”

“I believe he fell in love with a mortal who had summoned him,” Hannibal says with obvious contempt. “Though he regretted it. He could not stop her from dying.” A pause. “I killed him.”

Will isn’t surprised, but the thought of his friend dying still makes his chest constrict in grief. “Did you kill all the fallen angels you’ve come across?”

Hannibal doesn’t pause this time. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I am a demon, Will,” he points out. “More than a demon. When they saw what I am, they attacked. I defended myself.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Will turns to look down on Hannibal again. “Why am I still alive?”

Hannibal smiles at him, like a parent indulging a child. “Things between you and I are very different, Will. Do you really think I would kill you?”

“I really don’t want to hear this. Can we talk about something else?” Will sighs and climbs down from the loft. “Jack thinks Abigail Hobbs helped her father kill those girls.”

“How does it make you feel?”

Will raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “How does it make _you_ feel?”

“I find it vulgar,” Hannibal says. “But we both know that it is the truth.”

Will winces. He thinks back to his first visit to Abigail’s hospital room. Hannibal had been pretending to sleep, but Will could feel the power he was exercising the moment he stepped into the room. The demon had been sifting through Abigail’s memories, and Will, unable to satisfy his curiosity, had gone into Abigail’s mind and watched.

“She may have helped lure them in,” Will says. “But she’s still an innocent. Her father... you know what you saw.”

Hannibal shrugs. “I do. But Will, how long have you been on this Earth? You should know by now that nobody is an innocent.”

-

Sometimes, Will dreams of home.

He dreams of flying and fighting and sitting with Briathos in a secluded corner of Heaven and watching humans change and grow.

 **_“_ ** _I liked killing Hobbs. I never thought I’d like killing a human, but I did.”_

 **_“_ ** _Killing humans must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time. And are we not created in his image?”_

_“Us more than most, I suppose. But you shouldn’t speak like you know God.”_

_“But I do. You do. More than most.”_

That night, Will’s dream is a memory.

-

_Briathos found him while he was watching the souls._

_Karael was fascinated by the souls in Heaven. He spent hours, sometimes days on end watching them, watching families and their bittersweet reunions and their own versions of paradise. He was an angel, and was not meant to feel what they felt – he’d been programmed since he was created to believe that he was completely separate from humans – but he wondered if it was possible. If it was possible for angels to feel love beyond love for their Father and their general love for humanity. He wondered if it was possible for an angel to love an individual, to love them as a brother or sister or lover. He wondered if angels were capable of falling in love._

_“Karael.”_

_A pair of strong hands ran through the feathers of Karael’s wings. Karael tensed, then relaxed when he recognised the voice. “Briathos.” It came out like a prayer._

_The other angel chuckled and continued his ministrations. Karael let him. He didn’t often take care of his wings – didn’t see the need to – but he was in no position to stop Briathos when it felt so good._

_“You’re grooming me,” Karael murmured._

_“You’ve never been groomed before?” Briathos asked, leaning forward so his lips were inches from Karael’s ear._

_“No,” Karael said quietly. “Nobody’s ever really cared enough to offer.”_

_There was silence for several minutes – or was it been hours? Time in Heaven was tricky – until Briathos said, “Well, now somebody does.”_

_And Karael thought back to his wonderings, and decided that, yes, maybe it was possible for an angel to fall in love._

-

_Karael gave no thought to what love could do to a creature not built for it._


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “But the stars that marked our starting fall away.  
> We must go deeper into greater pain,  
> for it is not permitted that we stay.”  
> ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno
> 
> Thank you so much for the feedback for part one.

“Abigail,” Will says when they’re alone in the hospital room and Freddie Lounds out of sight, though her selfish intentions still fill the room. “This is Doctor Lecter. Do you remember us?”

Abigail looks at them with an odd expression on her face. Unable to help himself, Will skims her mind: and he sees himself kneeling over her, panicked and shaking, with his wings stretching out from his back, the bronze highlights glinting in the sunlight. He winces, though he knows she’ll just chalk it up to a hallucination.

“I remember you. You killed my dad.”

Will doesn’t know what to say.

-

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save your mother. We did everything we could but she was already gone.”

Will feels the grief radiating from Abigail’s core, and regrets bringing it up.

“I know,” Abigail says. “I saw him kill her.”

Will had to consciously block out the rest of Abigail’s emotions. He feels protective of her, despite knowing that she was complicit in her father’s crimes, and the part of him that is still an angel (that will always be an angel) yearns to go back in time and save her innocence.

“I’m worried about nightmares.”

“We’ll help you with the nightmares,” Hannibal assures her.

“There’s no such thing as getting used to what you experienced,” Will says, because regardless of his personal feelings, at this point, lying would just be cruel. “It bothers me a lot. I worry about nightmares, too.”

Abigail is silent for a few moments, and Will can feel the slightest sense of curiosity coming from her. His heart sinks at her next words. “So killing somebody, even if you have to do it, it feels that bad?”

Her father had made her feel like she had to help kill those girls.

**_“_ ** _I liked killing Hobbs. I never thought I’d like killing a human, but I did.”_

**_“_ ** _Killing humans must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time. And are we not created in his image?”_

Will isn’t sure whether or not he’s lying when he answers. He catches Hannibal’s eye for a second, but has to look away. “It’s the ugliest thing in the world.”

-

Will’s wings flare when he senses Freddie Lounds again. He wonders if Hannibal can feel them – probably, he thinks. A creature as powerful as Hannibal could probably touch them like they were corporeal things, if he wanted to.

Will hates people like Freddie Lounds - hates the greed, the selfishness, the lust for fame and attention and power. People who would harm others just for a few hits on a website. Tasteless.

He’s not sure what makes him say it – the tension of the day, the memories of Garret Jacob Hobbs dying at his hand, Abigail’s storm of emotions.

“Miss Lounds, it’s not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about _killing_ people for a living.”

And when he and Hannibal leave, he can almost feel the satisfaction the demon gained from his words.

“You would make a good demon.”

Will laughs. “I wasn’t even a good angel.”

“My point exactly.”

“Is that what you want?” Will demands, turning to glare at Hannibal. “Do you want me to become a demon? Join you in your little _extracurricular_ activities and eat the people you don’t think deserve life? No, thank you.”

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal says in a put-on tone of wistfulness. “I miss the days when you trusted me.”

-

Marrisa Schurr’s body stinks with Hannibal’s own brand of murder, the same one that hung around Cassie Boyle’s body.

Will wonders if Hannibal had had this sadism in him in Heaven, and he had just been too blind to see Briathos for what he really was.

-

Will feels the soul snuff out, and isn’t surprised when, on further investigation, he finds that Hannibal was not responsible.

_“He was gonna kill me.”_

_“Was he? This wasn’t self-defence, Abigail. You butchered him.”_

Will sighs. He should go in there and stop Hannibal from exerting more control over Abigail – it’s clear he wasn’t the only one with an interest in her – but he’s tired. And he knows demons. He knows their nature and their manipulation, and, more than anything, he knows that it’s too late. Long before he knew her, Abigail Hobbs was a murderer. At least with Hannibal’s guidance, she’ll be less likely to get caught.

And what a terrible thought that is.

It shouldn’t be reassuring.

-

_Briathos first kissed Karael in much the same manner he did everything – with concealed passion, confidence and elegance. He kissed like he had been kissing for centuries – but, as far as the other angel knew, it was a first for both of them._

_Karael sunk into the kiss, helpless against Briathos’ strong arms around his waist and his own desires and feelings. It was a weakness, and one he could not help but embrace._

_Their wings curled around each other, and Karael pressed himself so hard against Briathos’ body that he was sure they were going to melt into one being._

_And in that single moment, he felt dizzy and so very, very human._

-

When Will realises he has become trusts Hannibal, he wants to hit himself for being so stupid. He’s in bed – has just woken up from a nightmare about Garret Jacob Hobbs, and oh, he longs for the days when he didn’t have to dream - and he finds himself wishing Briathos was there.

His mind has been blurring the lines between the angel and the demon, and he’s not sure he can repair the damage.

He picks up his phone and calls Hannibal, who picks up at the second ring.

“Will,” he says, not even bothering to hide the pleased tone of his voice. “What can I do for you so early in the morning?”

Will looks at his clock – three am. “Do demons sleep?” he asks.

“No,” Hannibal tells him. “Another perk.”

“Yeah, well,” Will mutters. “I’d take nightmares to hellfire any day.”

“Is that why you called?” Hannibal asks. “Because you have had a nightmare?”

Will sighs. “Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“ _No_ ,” he says. “Yes. That’s the problem.”

“Will,” Hannibal says, slipping into psychiatrist mode like he knows that Will’s hands are shaking and his eyes are screwed tight in confusion. “It is completely normal to want to tell me about these things. I am your therapist, and we are... old friends. You are in a delicate state. Exposure to so much death is not healthy for a human, let alone a fallen angel. You have been cut off from Heaven – that makes you unstable enough. But with your ability to sense souls and heal, it is only natural that the effects of the crime scenes you look at are much more intense than people realise.”

“You’re a demon,” Will says, feeling bitter all of a sudden. “You wouldn’t know.”

There is a heavy pause on the other end of the line. “Will,” Hannibal says eventually. “It is fine to reach out to me. You know I would not hurt you.”

“Demons,” Will says. “Are evil and manipulative.”

“So are humans,” Hannibal tells him.

“Not all humans.”

“Not all demons.”

Will laughs. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“No, not really.” They are silent for a minute. Will tries to calm himself. It all goes out the door when Hannibal speaks again. “Shortly after I became a demon, I killed Michael.”

Will drops his phone. He scrambles to pick it up again, and when he does, he hisses, “You _killed_ Michael?”

“Yes. I could not let him go unpunished for his crimes.”

“He’s _Michael_. He’s an _archangel._ He had the _authority_ to do what he did _._ ”

“He _was_ ,” Hannibal corrects. “And I have no care for his status in Heaven, or his authority. He was the one who kept us from each other, and punished us for our... feelings. So I killed him, cut off his wings, and kept him apart from the very thing that made him an angel.”

Will feels sick. He drops the phone again and leaves it. He had to physically even out his breathing – _one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four_. When he stops feeling like he’s going to explode, he picks up the phone, and whispers, “You did it for... us?”

“Yes,” Hannibal says, as though it’s as simple as that.

“So when you became a demon, you retained echoes of the emotions you felt in Heaven?”

“Not echoes, Will. I am as capable of feeling emotions as I was when I was an angel, and a fallen angel. I just feel them... differently.”

“So _do_ you feel the same emotions now as you did when you were in Heaven?”

Hannibal lets out a breath that could be a sigh and could be a laugh. “If you are asking me if I still love you-”

-

_Karael and Briathos kept their activities a secret out of necessity. They were warriors – they were created to defend humanity and destroy demons. They were not created for this type of love._

_They continued to fight – under Briathos’ tutelage, Karael started to share is passion on the battlefield – and, when nobody was looking, they shared glances, or their wings brushed, or they snuck away to solitude and held each other. When there were no demons to be fought, they wandered Heaven and Earth, blending into their surroundings wherever they went, their actions for their eyes only._

_Theirs was an affair of messy, passionate love, and it had perverse effects on them both._

_Every day, Karael felt more. More love – love for Briathos, not god or the humans, though it had filled him with shame. He felt fear – fear that they were going to be found out, fear they he was going to fall, fear that there would be a day when he and Briathos would be apart._

_Every day, Briathos’ passions grew. His passion for violence – he went to Earth on his own, killing stray demons when he was not fighting them officially or with Karael. His passion for Karael – an obsession that developed into something dark and wicked._

_They never found out what it was the tipped off the other angels to the nature of their relationship_.

_One minute, they were sitting together on a roof at night, a quiet place in a growing human city. There were no rules in Heaven about leaving when duties did not call, and there were many angels who had “friends.” When the archangel Michael appeared before them, hovering above them in sky, silver wings crackling with lightning, they were simply sitting and watching the stars._

_And then they were ripped apart, and forbidden from ever seeing the other again._

_Karael searched – searched every corner of Heaven, over and over again, to find Briathos. For a decade, he flew nonstop, ignoring orders, ignoring battles._ _Eventually, he stopped, and sat, in the same spot where Briathos had first groomed his wings, and waited. Waited for Briathos to find him._

_Karael had become numb in his grief. When other angels tried to approach him, his wings would furl out without him thinking, warning them away. He was never prepared for what love could do to an angel if it grew too strong, but he felt its loss like somebody had hacked off his wings._

_Then, one day, he closed his eyes, and everything went black._

_When he opened them, he was plummeting towards the Earth, and Heaven was lost to him._

-

“- Then I assure you, my Will, my _Karael_ : I never stopped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this the end of the actual story. The next to parts are epilogues/sequels/whatever. So if you want the full effect, take a moment to let the story sink in before going on!


	3. My Course Is Set (For An Uncharted Sea)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was originally going to do some minor edits to the last two parts, but I had some issues with the editor so I'm just re-uploading them. For those of you who don't know, this chapter and the next are not actually chapters, but are (in a way) sequels to parts one and two. I just never was bothered making them a separate story.

Karael lies in bed, curled in on himself. It’s cold and his blankets are long kicked away, and he can’t bring himself to retrieve them because he’s not sure what in his world is real or not. He’s straddling the line between consciousness and dreams, and he’s restless.

 There’s something missing.

 He needs it. It’s calling to him, coaxing him in, and he wants to reach it but he can’t. So close, please,  _Briathos_ - 

Will’s eyes fly open. His wings curl protectively around himself, and he forces himself to take deep breaths. He is not Karael. Briathos no longer exists. As least, not as Karael knew him.

“ _I never stopped_ ,” a traitorous voice purrs in his mind, the serpent to Will’s Eve, offering something forbidden in the tantalizing way of someone who always gets what they want.

Will has always been so sure that demons could not feel love. So sure they couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t anger and hatred. But Hannibal – he isn’t angry. He’s passionate.

Will wants him. Will wants what they used to have. He aches for it, desperately.

He wants to fight alongside Hannibal, to groom his wings, to hold him while they sit at the edge of the Heavens and look down upon Earth and contemplate their powers.

The clock reads that it’s just past eleven.

He resigns himself to bad decisions and sits up, grabbing his phone.

-

Hannibal opens the door before he knocks, smiling as though he had expected him.

“I was just making myself a late dinner,” the doctor says, despite it being well past twelve. “Would you care to join me?”

Will gives him a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, sure, I was just thinking I could go for a bit of human flesh, actually. Hope you’re serving mildly annoying dental receptionist.”

“Sarcasm is unattractive, Will.”

“So is eating people.”

“And yet here you are.” Hannibal places a hand on the small of Will’s back and guides him into the kitchen. “Have you decided to stop denying yourself the finer pleasures of life?” Will feels wings brush against his own and, against his better judgement, returns the touch. It’s so intimate, burning with the memories of nights and days spent together, and it momentarily soothes the longing that permeates his very bones.

Will watches Hannibal finish up dinner – watches in morbid fascination as he slices the meat that so recently had been a living, breathing person.

It smells delicious, and makes his stomach churn.

Hannibal eats at the kitchen bench next to Will, savouring every bite of the meat as though it is sacred. Will stares at his own plate, and takes a bite of carrot when Hannibal scolds him for being impolite – but the vegetable is soaked in the blood from the meat and he stiffens as it slides down his throat. He curls his wings around himself protectively, ashamed. Disgusted.

“Will,” Hannibal sighs, as though this was all tiresome. “Be reasonable.”

“You’re a demon.”

“Yes. I am.”

Will’s nose scrunches. “You kill people. Needlessly. You’re not a good person.”

Hannibal places his cutlery down and stands. He offers a hand, and Will takes it, and is lead into the living room. They sit on the couch, opposite ends, not touching.

“I’m not a person,” Hannibal says, and for a split second Will can see his wings, dark and intimidating and beautiful. “I am, as you said, a demon. I do kill people. I relish in it just as I relished slaughtering demons in Heaven. And Will... I am still the same man you feel in love with.”

Will slumps, his head falling. “No,” he says, choking. “No, you’re not.”

Hannibal moves closer. “I am. You know I am. And you are still the same man I feel in love with. The same man who I have kept in my memory while I have killed hundreds of demons, angles and humans.”

It would be so easy. It would be so easy to turn to face Hannibal, lean forward, press their lips together and give in because, really, what else is there for him? His life is surrounded by death and suffering no matter what he does, which way he turns.

Will thinks about God, his Father, and the painful disconnection between himself and Heaven. He thinks about pain and loss, and thinks about how he is doomed to walk Earth for the rest of his life, never returning to Heaven, never going home. Who could blame him for wanting one thing in this awful, cursed life?

Will sits up, and meets Hannibal’s eyes.

“Briathos,” he says. He’s sure he’s shaking.

Hannibal smiles. Pleased, hungry. “Karael.”

Will leans forward, and begins his fall again.


	4. Into Eternal Darkness (Into Fire and Into Ice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A re-upload after some edits! The notes on the last chapter have a better explanation.
> 
> As I said in the last chapter, these last two aren't actually chapters, but serve as sequels to parts one and two. Because... I apparently made bad decisions when I published them. Oh well.

Abigail watches Will and Hannibal, and Abigail learns.

They don’t know it – or do they? – but they’re her teachers, and from them she is learning how to hide in plain sight. They probably see through it, her facade, but nobody else does, so she thinks she’s doing a good job. After all, Hannibal and Will have an unfair advantage.

When she sleeps, wings flare out behind her eyelids.

Today, they sign her out of the hospital for a few hours, Hannibal signing a log while he pretends that nothing is out of the ordinary about his hand resting gently on Will’s waist. Abigail catches Will’s eyes and gives him her closest approximation of a genuine smile.

His eyes flicker to the Hannibal’s hand, then back to her, and he nods.

She looks away, and out of the corner of her eyes, black feathers brush against Will’s arm.

-

Will thinks it’s amazing, how Abigail can be so pure yet full of so much darkness.

She is a beacon on beauty and light, and when he sits down for dinner with her and Hannibal, he feels an ugly twist of shame in his stomach that he is not doing more to protect her from Hannibal’s influence. Then again, how can he protect her from an evil that he has already succumbed to?

Will watches out of the corner of his eye as Abigail takes her first bite of the meal Hannibal has prepared. She chews it carefully, like she’s savouring it, and then she looks up at Hannibal.

Will knows that an understanding passes between them.

Abigail looks at Will, then, and while her face is expressionless, her eyes hold a deep and burning curiosity. 

She takes another bite.

-

After Abigail is as been returned to the hospital, Hannibal takes Will home, and undresses him slowly as he moves his mouth over every inch of Will’s body. He lays Will on the bed and spreads him out like a feast, then sets to work devouring his meal. It ends with Will shaking, gasping, completely ruined by the dark flash in Hannibal’s eyes as they make love. Afterwards, when they’re clean, Will curls into the heat of his lover’s body that scorches like the fires of hell.

Will lets his wings curl around Hannibal and for a moment, he can pretend that they’re in Heaven again, that the warmth is comforting, and the feeling in his chest is love, and not the weightlessness of the fall.

-

Abigail dreams of huge and powerful wings, and of the rolling fields of paradise.

She dreams of fire and ice burning her flesh away and consuming her.

-

Will dreams of being eaten alive and of being ripped from light and plunged into darkness.

-

They both have a restful sleep.

 


End file.
